The Embarrassing Problem of Tartine Envy

(Originally Published on July 7, 2016 by Trevor Wilson)

I’ve got a little problem folks. As much as I hate to admit it, I suffer from a virulent chronic condition. It’s an embarrassing subject for me, to be sure, but I think it’s time I come clean. You see, I’m not the only baker suffering from this debilitating disease.

No.

This illness is widespread throughout the baking community. It’s become epidemic. A virtual plague.

And we’ll never find a cure if we can’t first address the problem. If we can’t even admit to it.

So I stand here before you today and confess . . .

“Yes, I suffer from Tartine Envy!”

Phew. Sure feels good getting that off my back.

Now, it may seem a bit ironic that I’m bringing this up right on the heels of my last post — you know, the one about how to make Tartine style bread. But it only makes sense. That video received more views in just its first 2 weeks than all my other videos combined could muster in their first 2 months.

That’s the power of the Tartine name.

And it’s why so many of us have packed our bags and jumped on the bandwagon.

So let’s talk a little bit about this troubling contagion. I’m happy to take the lead here, but be warned — I’m gonna ramble and things are about to get a little personal. Now then . . .

The pre-cursor to my current malady began as a mild case of admiration. Chad Robertson admiration.

I first read about him way back in the year 2000. I was new to bread baking and even newer to sourdough. I had just gotten my first job in a bakery — and was still struggling to shape a half-way decent loaf. That’s when I happened upon “The Bread Builders”, that monumental masterpiece by Dan Wing and Alan Scott. The Alan Scott.

Of course, at the time I didn’t know who any of these people were. I was just another green baker still wet behind the ears. But this book was life-changing for me. Seriously. It completely opened my eyes to another way of baking. Another way of thinking.

And the pièce de résistance of the book was the final chapter:

“A Day in the Life at the Bay Village Bakery.”

Holy shit.

Words simply cannot describe the impact that one little chapter had on me. It was my Red Pill. If I read that book 50 times in the first few months after I bought it, then I must’ve read that chapter a hundred times more.

Those numbers are no lie.

I would read the book cover to cover. When I finished, I would re-read that final chapter 4 or 5 times. Then I would start the book from the beginning again. That cycle continued uninterrupted for months.

Pretty messed up, I know. But I was thoroughly obsessed. Enthralled.

That depiction of Chad Robertson’s little bakery and his daily baking routine completely swept me away. My fellow bakers thought me a total whack job. Rather than join them during breaks, I would sit down in a quiet corner and read that book. Every day. Every break. Without exception.

The problem, you see, is that I wanted to be Chad Robertson. Remember, this was long before Tartine. Outside of the regional market, and a small subset of the baking community, the world at large didn’t even know he existed.

But the lifestyle portrayed so well by that one little chapter — the lifestyle he represented — was perfection to my impassioned 24 year old mind. So simple. So idyllic.

So ignorant.

Yeah, I was young and ignorant. I could only imagine the picturesque. I never considered all the hard work. All the struggle. But that’s neither here nor there. The point is that at the time Chad Robertson epitomized the baker’s transcendent life in my view.

It’s an odd thing to idolize someone you’ve never met. It’s an even odder thing to idolize a baker who’s bread you’ve never even tasted.

Oh well. It is what it is.

Or was.

Now let’s fast forward a decade or so. That overly simplistic, overly idealistic Trevor is gone. Somewhere along the road he lost his way. Young Happy-Go-Lucky Trevor was gradually supplanted by Bitter-Son-Of-A-Bitch Trevor.

Not a fun guy to be around.

Fortunately, things were looking up. After having quit baking for a couple years out of spite, I had recently rediscovered my bread passion. It came in a dream. Weird, I know. But the first thing I did was to whip out my old beat up copy of “The Bread Builders” and reread the entire thing. Cover to cover. And I even reread that final chapter a few times, just like in the old days. It was fun to reminisce.

But I was a bit wiser by that point.

No more did “A Day in the Life at the Bay Village Bakery” seem like the perfect charming lifestyle. Admirable, perhaps, but no longer quite for me. I had changed too much in those long years.

And that’s when I first heard about Tartine.

I was so out of the loop that I didn’t even know that Chad Robertson and his wife had left that little village bakery and opened up Tartine. I didn’t know that in those years Chad had become one of the most acclaimed bakers in the world. I’d had my nose to the bench and didn’t see any of the changes that were taking place in the world of baking.

So naturally, I rushed out to buy his book . . . and fell in love with the romance of baking all over again. It really is a wonderful book. And his passion for bread is contagious.

It would still be a little while before I attempted my first Tartine loaf, but at that point I was back in the thick of it. I’d quit my job and returned to life as a full time artisan baker. But this time, I had a bit more perspective. My youthful ignorance and idealism had been replaced by insight and pragmatism.

And as I delved back into the world of bread baking — through books (so many new bread books) and online — I came to realize a curious thing. Everyone was trying to make Tartine style bread! Everyone. The online forums were littered with questions of “how do I get open crumb,” and the answers were always the same — higher hydration!

As I dug deeper, I realized that Tartine had spawned a whole new generation of bakers. Many even opened their own bakeries and, of course, they specialized in Tartine style bread. The new mantra had become “Wet dough! Bold bake!”

This wasn’t just a trend. This was a paradigm shift.

A New Order had arisen, so to speak. And unfortunately, it left little room for alternative viewpoints. But it wasn’t some devious plot to squash dissent, it was just a matter of consensus. Majority rule. Whenever an impressionable new baker came into the fold, it was made clear from the outset that the best bread is always made from high hydration dough and baked dark.

Everybody knows that. Duh!

This then formed the new baker’s opinion and the cycle continued. What we’re talking about here is dogma. A one-sided discussion.

But here’s the rub . . .

Tartine bread is really hard to make! To make well, anyways.

But new bakers didn’t understand this. They didn’t understand that the dough they were making was challenging to handle even for experienced bakers. They didn’t realize that the bread in the pictures was made by one of the best bakers in the world. They just figured that if they followed the recipe they would end up with bread just as beautiful.

What no one told them was that baking is actually a skill. A craft. And like any craft, it takes a ton of practice before you achieve any sort of proficiency. And that goes double when working with such challenging dough as that found in Tartine.

This leads to a mismatch between expectations and reality. Discouragement and frustration ensue.

What I saw when I returned to baking was a cult of wet dough fanatics and a growing underclass of loyal, but struggling disciples.

So what did I do?

I joined the herd like the good little lemming I am!

I started focusing almost exclusively on high hydration doughs. Fortunately, I’d had many years of experience handling wet dough so this wasn’t as traumatic an experience for me as it is for most new bakers. Nevertheless, my imitation Tartine loaves never quite seemed to live up to the real thing.

Part of the problem was comparing my bread to Chad Robertson’s — I confess, I am no Chad Robertson. And the other part of the problem was something I’ve since come to call “Crumb Dysmorphia”.

Crumb Dysmorphia is the phenomenon by which a baker’s sense of his own crumb becomes distorted from reality. Whereas any other baker looking at the bread might see a nice open crumb, the baker who baked it sees nothing but a tight dense failure. It’s a common problem — and one of the most obvious symptoms of Tartine Envy.

So I went along and continued to bake my high hydration loaves. Always pushing for wetter and wetter dough, darker and darker bakes, and the holeyest of loaves. But in the back of my mind, I was uncomfortably aware that I was just part of the consensus — and therefore part of the problem.

And just what is that problem exactly?

The problem is elitism.

There. I said it.

When someone scoffs at another’s loaf of bread because it isn’t dark enough or holey enough, then that is elitism. When they look down at another’s loaf because they chose to add oil or milk or yeast, then that is elitism. If any bread that comes from a pan is derisively mocked, then that is elitism.

Elitists smugly dismiss any baker who isn’t part of the clique.

And if your bread doesn’t conform to their standards, then yours is by definition inferior.

So the problem is that whole swaths of bread styles are rejected out of hand. Instead of celebrating the diversity of bread, the new Cabal has declared that there is only one “true” bread. And then they proceed to define that platonic ideal in only the narrowest of terms — wet dough, big holes, near-burnt crust.

The Tartine loaf has become Idol.

It is the standard by which all other loaves are judged. And so, is it any wonder that so many of us suffer from Tartine Envy?

Now I’ve been known to dabble in hyperbole from time to time, so don’t take all this too seriously. But the point remains — we need to stop comparing ourselves to Chad Robertson and our bread to Tartine. Chad Robertson makes wonderful bread, but it’s his bread. We need to drop the envy and start doing our own thing, making our own bread — yours truly included.

And keep in mind, this is coming from the guy that once literally wanted to be Chad Robertson.

So if you like a lighter crust then bake it lighter. If you prefer to work with stiffer dough then mix it stiffer. If you don’t want massive holes then forget about ’em. These things are not flaws. Good bread is how YOU define it — don’t let others define it for you.

And Chad, if you’re reading this — I love you man. Just having some light-hearted fun.

Cheers!

Trevor J. Wilson

p.s. The picture up top can be found in it’s original non-artistic form at my Instagram account: @trevorjaywilson. It was made for the #BreadByEye challenge in which we’re not allowed to measure or weigh any ingredients. I documented the making of the loaf with video posts and you can follow the entire process from start to finish.

Original comments no longer active.

Comments

1. kahling saysJuly 8, 2016 at 1:00 AMThank you for writing this. Very aptly put.Reply
   • Trevor Wilson saysJuly 8, 2016 at 8:41 AMYou’re welcome! It was a fun one to write! Cheers!Reply
     • Alan Neilson saysNovember 14, 2017 at 4:44 AMTrevor, thank god there is someone out there that has the Ball’s to question Tartine Bread being the Yardstick for all Bread.I loved this article and agree with you 100%Reply
   • Fiona saysNovember 26, 2016 at 3:49 AMWasn’t it though! A brilliant read, thanks Trevor.
     FionaReply
     • Trevor Wilson saysNovember 28, 2016 at 11:04 AMThank you Fiona! I appreciate that!TrevorReply
2. Marco saysJuly 8, 2016 at 3:54 AMHi Trevor, thanks for this words, so focused on one of the big problem (probably the main problem) of obsessed-home-baker like me. I’ve to admit that for a little time i suffer of Breadwerx envy (also Tartine envy obv). You mix you dough so well and so fast, you have a nice handle tecnique ecc ecc ecc…
   I’ve made quite good breads in past, stiffer and with a thigther crumb, but defenitivey tasting good. Suddently that was not enough any more, i want better bread, and I felt so bad with my faillure… But little by little i’m starting to understand that:
   “we need to stop comparing ourselves to Chad Robertson (or Trevor J. Wilson, or Alan Scott) and our bread to Tartine. Chad Robertson makes wonderful bread, but it’s his bread. We need to drop the envy and start doing our own thing, making our own bread — yours truly included.”Thank you for sharing your thoughts (so glad i’m not alone with bread-obsession… hahaha)!!!!Marco
   P.s. i apologise for my english… 😉Reply
   • Trevor Wilson saysJuly 8, 2016 at 8:54 AMHi Marco, no worries — you’re in good company. I’d hazard a guess that most bakers are never quite satisfied with their own bread and constantly comparing their loaves to others. We all have a secret baker-crush on someone or other. I think that feeling is pretty natural, and it compels us forward to always try and do better.The problem is when a hegemony of thought has us questioning whether we even have a right to call our own bread “bread”. When we abandon the breads we love in the pursuit of making something else simply because that style is currently favored then that’s a problem. It means we’re caving to peer pressure. And that’s never good, either for your bread or your soul.There’s no shame in making the kind of bread you and your family enjoy. And if that means stiffer dough and a more even crumb then so be it. Nothing wrong with that.Cheers!Reply
     • Chris saysMarch 20, 2017 at 1:42 PMI always have to remind myself of this as well. Bread baking needs to be fun and I also find myself a bit dissatisfied about my crumb shots. Thank you for this reminder Trevor. As long as myself, my family and the friends I serve love the bread, that’s all that matters.Reply
   • Nklim73 saysJuly 17, 2016 at 3:54 PMIts so true ! I saw R Bertine and Robertson and Hamelman, there breads are so good, and I teach more, but my bread is individualReply
     • Trevor Wilson saysJuly 18, 2016 at 1:29 PMThat’s great Marco! That’s how it should be. Each baker should be on a quest to make his or her own individual bread. It’s always fun to explore other styles and recipes. And it’s certainly okay to be influenced by other bakers and their bread. But we should never strive for mimicry. Unique bakers deserve to make unique bread. Cheers!Reply
     • Ken Hercott (breadbuilders) saysSeptember 11, 2017 at 7:10 PMA little correction here, it’s R Bourdon!! I shared the same window in time at Berkshire Mountain Bakery with Chad. We were all young ( including Richard) and so eager to learn from such an inspiring teacher. It’s so true that Richard has a passion for bread as a food, not just a commodity and he was able to give us the inspiration and skill base to continue on our own journeys. My journey still continues here in AustraliaReply
3. Alex saysJuly 8, 2016 at 3:36 PMGreat and empowering article Trevor. You’ve described the phenomenon very well!Reply
   • Trevor Wilson saysJuly 9, 2016 at 7:25 AMThanks Alex! I’m glad you enjoyed it! Cheers!Reply
4. Roman Chavez saysJuly 8, 2016 at 7:10 PMYou’re right man! I have been keeping my bread at 75% hydration, and there’s no frustration. The shit is good. I appreciate your wisdom and insight man.
   Keep the bread faith!
   Roman
   Hangar breadReply
   • Trevor Wilson saysJuly 9, 2016 at 7:27 AMThanks Roman! You make some beautiful bread brother, so whatever you’re doing is working just fine. I’m glad you liked the article! Cheers!TrevorReply
5. Jen saysJuly 8, 2016 at 10:31 PMVery perceptive. I admire Chad (own his books) and many other well know artisan bakers, but I bake what we like to eat, everything from pumpernickel to pain de mie. (I’ve never seen the point of huge holes – how on earth do you slather it with butter? 🙂Reply
   • Trevor Wilson saysJuly 9, 2016 at 7:29 AMI’m glad you liked it Jen! I think you’ve got the right idea — bake what you like to eat. And as the old saying goes, “you can’t butter a hole.” Cheers!Reply
6. Colin_Sutton saysJuly 9, 2016 at 5:34 AMOh, and there was me suffering from “Champlain Envy”…By coincidence, I’d premixed some ‘Champlain’ last night, at 63% hydration, which is about as much as I can handle with a UK flour. This morning I realised that I’m more envious of experience and technique, but in a good way – as a spur to be a better baker.Even at 63% my first 10 minutes of stretch and folds is still on the sticky side, and definitely not willing to cooperate with being rolled around the bowl as you do in your really helpful video.Really enjoyed this blog, and I wish someone had told me earlier that a Tartine loaf is not a good starting point for beginners!Best wishes and thanks for all the information you share,ColinReply
   • Trevor Wilson saysJuly 9, 2016 at 7:32 AMThanks Colin! I appreciate the kind words!If it makes you feel any better, I have yet to meet a baker who took longer to learn how to shape and handle dough than I did. I have absolutely no innate talent when it comes to this stuff. So if I could eventually learn, you’ll get there too. Just takes some time, my friend. Best of luck!Cheers!TrevorReply
   • Jimmy saysJuly 27, 2016 at 3:02 AM+ 1 there Colin. It seems that also the flour in Sweden is different when it comes to the relation to the hydration. At least that’s my conclusion after comparing videos from Trevor and others with my own dough when using the hydration in the recipe.
     Before, I thought that it was my handling of the dough that was not good enough but there is no doubt that the “untouched” pre-mixed dough that I add the starter to is rather different from the video. It’s way more sticky and will not easily be rolled around in the bowl.
     I’m going to lower the hydration in steps just to test out how it affects the feeling of the dough.And Trevor, I just love your posts and instructional videos. Keep up the good work!Thanks / JimmyReply
     • Trevor Wilson saysJuly 28, 2016 at 8:48 AMThanks Jimmy! I appreciate the additional insight and the kind words. Cheers!TrevorReply
7. Peter (MelbourneBreadMan) saysJuly 9, 2016 at 9:10 AMGreat article Trevor. I have a copy of Bread Builders but have neglected to read it. I have no idea why. I think I’ll start tomorrow!Reply
   • Trevor Wilson saysJuly 9, 2016 at 11:11 AMThanks Peter! You’re gonna love it! Even to this day it still stands as one of the best bread books of all time. I attribute the majority of my successful bread journey to having discovered that book right at the most opportune time in my young impressionable life — probably much like “Tartine” has been so instrumental in many of the newer bakers journeys. Enjoy!Reply
8. Thomas saysJuly 9, 2016 at 3:55 PMI agree Trevor.“The Bread Builders” is the best bread book. ever! Actually it might simply be the best book I have ever read.
   I read it like 13 years ago and it hit me like a hammer. There is so much information and knowledge in that book. Both about bread and life and how they are connected. I remember reading those first chapters where Wing describes how he and Alan Scott bakes. I was just enthralled. There was no going back.If I had to bring one book to a deserted island I think it would be “The Bread Builders”. I could go on and on about that book. It is the book that made me start baking for people i love and care about. Not a day passes where I do not think about bread in some form. I am grateful for all the life lessons that I have been taught through bread making. If I were to change career path I would most certainly go with baking.And now all these years after reading the book for the frst time I am finally building a wood fired oven. I cannot wait to light a fire in it and see what happens.I love your videos and IG feed. It opened my eyes to lowering hydration and working on technique.Keep up the good work. It is much appreciated.Reply
   • Trevor Wilson saysJuly 10, 2016 at 11:18 AMThanks a lot Thomas! I agree, it’s not just one of the best bread books I’ve ever read — it’s one of the best books I’ve ever read. Period. And I would never trade my old beat up copy for a new one. I’ve got way too much history with that book — and I’m not typically the sentimental type.That’s awesome that you’re building a wood fired oven! I’m totally jealous. Someday, someday . . .Cheers!TrevorReply
     • Iain Banfield saysFebruary 28, 2017 at 5:08 PMGreat article. Love the look of your copy of “the bread builders” very much like mine. I also have a signed hardcover copy from the 2000 breadbuilders gathering near SF. We built our first AS oven in 95′ after corresponding with Alan and he came out to OZ in 2002 to build our bigger 6×8 oven that we still use. I remember reading and rereading that chapter on Chad too when the book first came out. We seemed to be leading similar lives baking in our woodfired ovens for our communities but by 2000 Chad had moved on to Mill Valley (still woodfired) and then SF. I sometimes feel like a bit of a failure as I’m still just baking bread for my local community and have never looked to expand. I know Alan was all about doing it our way. Back when I started baking in 87′ at Natural Tucker Bakery (woodfired sourdough) we had a few magazines with articles about Poilane which I read and reread during breaks, still super impressed with his philosophies regarding the baker doing it all from mixing to baking. And the beehive “manufacture” is an impressive way to increase production but stay true to your roots.
       Regards iainReply
   • janyt saysJuly 10, 2016 at 6:00 PMI was thinking as I read Trevors, and now your words, that it’s really about one’s life lessons through the bread or whatever endeavor you are quickened to engage with . . . be it once, twice . . . or more.Reply
     • Trevor Wilson saysJuly 11, 2016 at 9:00 AMGood point. I think there are life lessons to be found in practically any experience. But bread baking really does help you think in a different way — or, at least, it does for me. Baking helps to bring me perspective. And that’s a pretty valuable thing in today’s sensationalist world. Cheers!Reply
9. BreadBikeCoffee saysJuly 10, 2016 at 5:45 AMGreat words, plenty of wisdom and maturity. Your sensations are very close to me. And you are a experimented baker.My question is, Trevor, what is your bread? We need more and DIFFERENTS Chads! (and I love Chad Robertson, too)Reply
   • Trevor Wilson saysJuly 10, 2016 at 11:25 AMThanks man! Defining “my” bread is a difficult thing since it’s always changing. But the closest snapshot of “my bread” would be my Champlain Sourdough. Here’s a link for you to check it out:http://www.breadwerx.com/champlain-sourdough-recipe-video/I play around with the hydration pretty frequently, and I might increase or decrease the amount of whole grain (though I always keep the spelt/rye ratio fixed at 2 to 1), but overall that is the bread I make most often and would consider as “my bread”. I hope you like it! Cheers!TrevorReply
10. Andrew sheets saysJuly 10, 2016 at 3:46 PMVery good words!
    Love your inputs to the world of baking.
    The way I look at it is flavor and access.
    Bread should be good, cheap and nurishing. No mater the shape or crumb size.
    If you grow your own grain and its low protien, then maybe low hydration is the way. Learn what your land and your clymint wants to guid us. Let the bread Speak. The same can be said about wine, and cheese or any artisan product for that matter. Further we become disconnected from the land and what we grow, and more reliant on products from further way, more we will be de personalized. No wonder the envy sets in. Most people don’t have a mill and can’t mill there own grain from miles away.
    Look forward to reading more on your blog Trevor! ThanksReply
    • Trevor Wilson saysJuly 11, 2016 at 8:57 AMThanks Andrew! I think you bring up some good points. Especially about bread being cheap — that’s something I think I’ll write an article on sometime down the road. Bread has always been the staple of the masses precisely because it was so cheap. Yet now we live in an era where a loaf of good bread is so expensive it’s practically a luxury item. It’s a sad state that only the wealthy can afford good quality artisan bread.But that’s not usually the bakers fault. Artisan bread is a labor and time intensive process, and most artisan bakers are barely squeezing by as it is. And when you add in the cost of organic ingredients and ancient or heirloom grains, prices spiral out of control real quickly. I love the idea of the “Real Bread Campaign” but I would also love to see something like the “Affordable Real Bread Campaign”. I’ve never been comfortable with the idea that I make a product that’s simply out of reach for the majority of folks to afford. It kind of goes against the ethic of the village baker. I don’t really know what to do about that though.Anyway, I kind of took a detour in responding to your comment. Sometimes I just can’t keep myself from rambling. Thanks for you input Andrew!Cheers!TrevorReply
11. Roberto saysJuly 13, 2016 at 11:39 AMLol….. you are my “chad”… I enjoy your videos and post…. thanks for the teachings. … greetings from Costa Rica!Reply
    • Trevor Wilson saysJuly 14, 2016 at 9:03 AMHa! Thanks Roberto! I guess I finally get to be Chad Robertson after all! Cheers!TrevorReply
      • Roberto saysJuly 16, 2016 at 12:27 PMLol…. you are better…. uniqueness roots in humblenessReply
        • Trevor Wilson saysJuly 18, 2016 at 1:15 PMThanks Roberto! You are too kind!Reply
12. Zach saysJuly 16, 2016 at 1:40 AMThanks for writing this. It’s something I, and I expect most amature bakers, experience. When everybody at the table tells you how good your bread is but you’re bumming because it doesn’t look like what you see on Instagram. I’m going to be paying more attention to what’s good, instead of fussing over what doesn’t measure up to this standard. A big part of what makes baking so fun is how that perfect loaf seems just out of reach. And keeping it fun means being happy with what you’ve got even as you strive for better.Reply
    • Trevor Wilson saysJuly 18, 2016 at 1:14 PMHey Zach, you’re absolutely right. It’s the chase for that perfect loaf that keeps baking fun. The joy is in the challenge. No baker is ever 100% satisfied with their bread. And that’s how it should be. It keeps us striving to always do just a bit better. But it’s true that we need to not compare our loaves so much to others. It’s best if we compare our loaves to our own past bakes and our own standards. Admiration for other bakers and their bread is a natural thing, but it should never get to the point where we find ourselves chasing after a style that might not be what we truly prefer. Because if that’s the case, then it means we’re baking bread for others approval rather than our own.Cheers!TrevorReply
13. Jim saysJuly 18, 2016 at 6:42 AMExcellent article on the artistry and craft of bread baking. We novices strive to perfect the methodology required to make “that” perfect loaf which is defined by someone else. Everything is viewed as a failure until we can duplicate their effort.What we fail to see is that much of the product we develop through that process is just as flavorful and visually-appealing as the example we strive to achieve. It’s a forest-for-the-trees thing.Reply
    • Trevor Wilson saysJuly 18, 2016 at 1:40 PMThanks Jim! I think you said it perfectly. We should all be defining our own “perfect” loaf. Attempting to recreate someone else’s “perfect” loaf is a poor use of time and energy. While it’s certainly fun to play around with other styles and methodologies, we need to draw a line between exploration and emulation.Exploration of other baker’s styles and techniques can be a wonderful learning experience. And it’s only natural to be influenced by that which resonates with us. But trying to emulate them and their bread is a mistake. It does little justice to our own preferences, talents and creativity. Better that we focus on making bread that pleases our own palette and aesthetics rather than what pleases the masses and their flavor of the month.Cheers!TrevorReply
14. Jackie saysJuly 18, 2016 at 7:06 PMI’m only on my third attempt on making sourdough bread, although I did try doing it in the 70s using The Bread Book by James Beard. I forget why I stopped baking. Oh yes–life happened.
    I’m again loving the sourdough process and bread baking. I have to stop myself from buying the paraphernalia like a banneton and lame, but certainly I’m getting the book, The Bread Builders, because I love to read, also.
    I’m learning so much more from you and others on Instagram whom I’m following.
    Incidentally, I attended Bread Loaf School of English over a decade ago. Perhaps, that was a sign of my present bread scoring style–I need better English in my wrist.
    Thank you for your assistance!Reply
    • Trevor Wilson saysJuly 20, 2016 at 7:53 AMHi Jackie, that’s great that you’re getting back into sourdough baking! Just be warned, it can be an addictive hobby. It probably won’t be long before you find yourself justifying the purchase of that banneton or lame. Just sayin’.That’s awesome that you studied out here in Vermont! I hope you enjoyed your stay here. The Bread Builders was also co-written by a Vermont author. We’re all about artisan bread (and craft beer) out here. You’re gonna love the book, I have no doubt. And best of luck with your baking adventures!Cheers!TrevorReply
15. Greg saysJuly 19, 2016 at 5:23 PMYou are my baker crush.Reply
    • Trevor Wilson saysJuly 20, 2016 at 7:56 AMHa! That just made my day! Thanks buddy!Reply
16. Ramon saysAugust 1, 2016 at 9:52 PMExcellent article Trevor. You’re the best.
    Now I realize that I suffer from Trevor Wilson’s disease.
    ??
    Thank you for all your tips.Reply
    • Trevor Wilson saysAugust 2, 2016 at 9:00 AMHa! Thanks Ramon! I feel honored to have my own disease now!Reply
17. Roberto saysAugust 7, 2016 at 11:41 AMAsí es. Yo también quedé con la boca abierta al ver el libro Tartine. Fue después de ser cliente de Panic, panadería de Madrid. Ser cliente me llevó a ser trabajador allí.
    Trabjé con Ferrán Adrià, El Bulli, (en otra vida) y él dice: “crear es no copiar”. Que así sea. Que cada uno de nosotros encontremos nuestro pan.
    Agradecido por tus vídeos, explicaciones,…. Gran descubrimiento.
    Un saludo
    RobertoP.D: si pasas por Madrid, ven a vernos!! 🙂instagram: @elpingueReply
18. Roberto saysAugust 7, 2016 at 12:00 PMGran verdad en mi caso. Era cliente de la panadería donde ahora trabajo y había visto los vídeos de Tartine.
    Hagamos nuestro pan diferente. Trabajé con Ferrán Adrià, El Bulli, y él decía: “Crear en no copiar”.
    Un saludo desde España. Y gracias por tu instagram, vídeos, web, reflexiones….
    Si vienes por Madrid, ven a visitarnos, a hacer pan,….. a Panic.
    Roberto
    instagram: @elpingueReply
    • Trevor Wilson saysAugust 11, 2016 at 1:17 PMHey Roberto, I’m glad you like my work!“Crear en no copiar”To create is not to copy. So true. I love your story of going from customer to working at the bakery. It looks like you guys make some beautiful bread. If I’m ever out your way I’ll definitely stop in for a visit. Thanks for the comment and the invitation!Cheers!TrevorReply
19. Jared saysAugust 7, 2016 at 3:39 PMWow, Mr. Wilson, just stumbled on your blog from your Instagram account. This article hits the spot! You have made such a terrific statement here that, if I may, could be applied to many other aspects of life. Thank you for defining bread as whatever we make it to be. You helped me from spiraling down that path of elitism and opened the door for creativity. You’re amazing! Thank you!Reply
    • Trevor Wilson saysAugust 11, 2016 at 1:22 PMThanks Jared! I’m glad the article resonates so well with you! I think you’re right, the idea of “doing your own thing” applies to most areas in life. It’s certainly okay to allow ourselves to be influenced by other’s work or ideas, but it’s also important that we remain authentic to ourselves first. Creativity is found in the fusion of what we learn from others and what we teach ourselves. Cheers!TrevorReply
      • Lena saysNovember 6, 2016 at 3:06 AMI think your last sentence summed it all up perfectly ! We must all be willing to learn something new everyday if we are to grow as people ( or bakers, or what ever we are or want to be) and we must be just as willing to give ourselves some credit too 🙂Reply
        • Trevor Wilson saysNovember 6, 2016 at 5:43 PMIndeed! It’s amazing what you can learn from small everyday moments if you keep an open eye and an open mind. And the same goes for bread baking. In the end, it’s the little things that make all the difference. Cheers!TrevorReply
20. Sophie saysAugust 19, 2016 at 2:29 PMYou have just coined two of the most apt terms of my year: Tartine envy and crumb dysmorphia. I see both of these phenomena EVERYWHERE lately (and by ‘everywhere’ I mean all over the three sourdough Facebook groups in which I hang out). Just in case your own envy isn’t sufficiently developed, you should know that even on the other side of the world, amateur female bakers idolise him like their daughters idolise Justin Bieber, and grown men who can’t achieve big holes abandon high hydration with excuses of “it’s too hard to spread butter on it”.In other news, I see that you’ve been blogging for almost exactly a year, so congratulations and happy anniversary, and take heart: your own videos are shared even where people don’t speak English, because what you do crosses language borders and inspires us all.Reply
    • Trevor Wilson saysAugust 22, 2016 at 6:44 AMThank you very much Sophie! Bread does seem to transcend all borders, doesn’t it?It’s funny, even though my website has been up for a year now, I only consider myself as having really started blogging in February. My first few posts were all posted on that same day back in August of last year (they’d been sitting in my computer for a couple years though). After that, I didn’t do anything with this site. It wasn’t until December that I published my next post, and then nothing again until February. So I actually consider February as the real start of Breadwerx. I honestly didn’t think I’d receive such a big response in so short a time. That makes for a happy anniversary! Thank you!Cheers!TrevorReply
21. dan saysAugust 26, 2016 at 8:52 AMgreat article mate. I think you are bang on with this. Its interesting coming at it from a home bakers perspective and how I have got to the same place as you are talking about but for different reasons. Tartine was the first bread book I bought and so my starting point was this is how bread is made rather than your knowledge as a proper baker. The same things have happened though as it was a spring board after a couple of years of trying to make my own bread and accepting the influences of other such great bakers from books and instagram (including your good self). The different methods and thoughts which are in the same ball park but slightly different. I’ve just finished the book “in search of the perfect load” which is such a good read and again helped me think about my own bread and baking. Now looking back after a couple of years of regular sourdough baking how I needed the structure of a method like tartine but how I have grown to find my own way of doing it.keep up the good work on the blog and instagram and thanks for the continued support and help
    cheers
    Dan
    backgardenbaker (instagram)Reply
    • Trevor Wilson saysAugust 30, 2016 at 12:14 PMThanks Dan! “In Search of the Perfect Loaf” is such a good book! I read it while I was staying with Gerard Rubaud as an apprentice a couple years ago (couldn’t ask for a more appropriate book at that time). Of course, what is the perfect loaf? That’s wherein the problem lies. The reason everyone is copying Tartine bread these days is because that’s what they believe the perfect loaf to be. After all, that’s what the James Beard Foundation and Saveur say, right? And for that matter, every other foodie around.But that’s a misconception.Tartine is Chad’s perfect loaf. Or at least, it’s the style of bread closest to his perfect ideal (since none of us ever actually achieve perfection). And it’s a fine loaf, no doubt. But is it really the perfect loaf for everybody? I would think that most bakers would be better served trying to find their own perfect loaf, instead of mimicking someone else’s.I understand that we all mimic to a certain degree. That’s how we learn and grow. But where does mimicry stop and cloning begin? And when do admiration and emulation lead to dogma? In our rush to copy, we lose our own originality. Our own spirit. Our own bread.To me, that’s a sad thing. I’d much prefer to see bakers doing their own thing, whatever that thing may be. There’s beauty in variety.Cheers!TrevorReply
22. Ian Prichard saysAugust 29, 2016 at 4:58 PMThanks so much for this, Trevor. Been following you and a bunch of other incredible bakers on IG for the last six months or so, since I started my cottage bakery and got on IG to see how I could leverage it for ordering/advertising when I was ready to really up my production and make a real go at selling more than a dozen loaves a week. What I found instead was enviable thises and enviable thats–and a similar emotional arc to what you describ here.For the last three or four years I’ve been messing with sourdough, I’d always been aware of the wet dough/big hole ideal, but it wasn’t until I dove into IG that it became, as you describe it, an Idol. At first I realized I wasn’t anywhere near ready to compete in the marketplace (without, of course, being anywhere near realistic about my place in said marketplace), and then I found myself despairing that I ever would be. What customers I have are always thrilled with my bread, and keep paying me for it every week, but I was so sure they didn’t know what they were talking about and would be even happier the better (i.e., wetter and holier) my bread got. But I was talking with a friend a while ago, fresh after putting in his hands my wettest and holiest bread yet, and he said, “what’s with all the holes?”It made me realize just how far I’d gone down the Tartine-envy vortex–I’d been forcing my conception of the perfect loaf onto people who are perfectly happy with bread that “all the stuff you put on it doesn’t fall through,” to quote another customer.So, I’m kind of reassessing. Maybe the geographical area or at least the customer base I currently serve doesn’t want all Tartine-enviable bread all the time. I’ve also become a little more able and willing to admit my limitations–I’m no Chad Robertson either, for SURE–and embrace what I do make as a quality product.None of this is necessarily new–my other more-than-hobby I hope to make a living from some day is writing fiction (and you want to talk about a group of obsessive, envious/enviable, competitive, unrealistic-but-insanely-driven people with strange ideas of quality/success/perfection…)–but I nevertheless got wrapped up it in and had to disentangle myself yet again. Lifestyle envy and finished-product envy and all the other things that make up idol envy are cunning effing manifestations of ego, and the little bastards pop up like Wackamoles. Takes constant practice to keep em in check–and reading about how others are making their ways out and through, like this post, is certainly part of that practice. So thanks again. Such a pleasure (and lifesaver, sometimes…) to be part of this community of strivers and dreamers who are as generous as they are talented.Reply
    • Trevor Wilson saysAugust 30, 2016 at 1:07 PMSuch a great comment Ian! Thank you! It’s interesting, in all my years as a professional baker, not once did a single customer return a loaf of bread because the crumb was too tight or the holes too small (short of undrproofed/underbaked/undersized loaves). BUT . . . I saw many many loaves returned because the holes were too big. And not just because of the occasional air pocket.I think the desire for big holes (which historically have usually been considered a flaw) is a new trend that’s being “manufactured” in a sense. In other words, the idea has become an ideal due to acclaim and publicity. Short of a few trendy markets, I think the desire for such bread is actually fairly limited. It’s moreso the bakers themselves (due to their Tartine Envy) that are behind the push for this kind of bread.It’s a slippery slope.The idea is that if your customers don’t want Tartine-style bread it’s because they don’t know what “good” bread really is. Therefore the baker must educate them. And that’s where elitism begins to rear its ugly head.The way I look at it, the baker can make the bread he prefers or make the bread his customers prefer. If both baker and customer have the same preferences then perfect. If not, the baker must choose between customer or integrity (business or art). And if you choose to make your bread against your market’s demand, then you’d best work hard to convince (not educate) them as to why it’s better. The distinction I make between “convincing” vs. “educating” is all important here. Mindset is everything. Convincing is done peer to peer. But educating is done from superior to inferior. After all, we only educate the ignorant.Cheers!TrevorReply
      • Ian Prichard saysAugust 30, 2016 at 6:57 PMGreat distinction, and one so few people are able to make so concisely, let alone put into practice or admit to. Goes back to what you were saying in the post about craft and skill, and these weird hairsplitting cultural distinctions between “true art” (i.e., passionate, heartfelt, sacred) and selling out. Which is all another way in which breadmaking is so obviously an art, as much as painting or writing or sculpting or woodworking. ARTISTS can exist in a vacuum if they like; ARTISANS–that is, people who make their living by skilled work they do with their hands–have to answer to markets. And it’s a choice each one of us has to make. Thanks for the reply.Reply
        • Trevor Wilson saysAugust 30, 2016 at 8:24 PMBeautifully said! Just a warning, I’ll probably steal your artist vs. artisan comparison sometime down the road. I love clarity of thought, and if someone else can save me the trouble of clarifying it myself then I’m a happy camper. Thank you kindly!Reply
          • Ian Prichard saysAugust 31, 2016 at 8:22 PMDo it to it.Reply
23. Subtextart saysSeptember 25, 2016 at 6:09 AM*(English is my 2nd language)This was a great reading, thank you for being exact and sincere plus letting yourself speek freely. Imo it reflects the desired process of diluting one’s ego, of maturing, striving for the open-hearted non judgmental multi-disciplinary way: much Zen, many impressed, WoW 🙂
    After a period of one month experimenting, Ive been baking “bread by eye” for the last six years. Today I can make an even spread-sandwich-functional-crumb bread from any amount of ingredients, and can replicate it. Put a teaspoon or a barrel or no SD starter at all – it just offsets time, etc. All of the breads in my IG account were made this way, except from that I had paid as homage to a certain Trevor J W.I Had my Chad R. Period – mostly admiring from afar and absorbing the meta, the approach : it was your 5 min. ‘how to Champlain SD’ tube that brought the first weight to my kitchen (!). (You already saw and loved the outcome tnx!!). Hopefully Without “Crumb Dysmorphia”,:)))),
    I’m now at my TJW period in some sense : being open I can absorb not just the precious baking knowledge and techniques, but everything else i see as positive and am lacking of : in my case it appears I must start some push-ups/Su etc.
    Zen mind and frankness allows for a wide look and makes it easier for one to improve in light of another – even when the later doesn’t know he is your teacher/guide. I hope to make you proud Senpai and thicken my spaghetti arms ! 🙂
    With your permission I’ll DM you in IG a short ancient Zen story.Thank you.Reply
    • Trevor Wilson saysSeptember 28, 2016 at 6:11 PMThank you! It feels good knowing my work has resonated so strongly with you! I agree — it’s helpful to learn from as many sources as we can. As Bruce Lee said . . . keep that which is useful, discard that which is not. I’ve been doing that my whole life. And the only way you’ll ever actually know what is useful is to give it a fair try yourself. In time, you eventually develop your own unique style that combines from all your sources plus what you have inside. That fusion is what makes each baker’s bread so special. I wish you luck in your baking (and exercising) journey!Cheers!TrevorReply
24. Anita Šumer saysNovember 2, 2016 at 9:38 AMThank you, Trevor, for this post! It came just in time, was on that road myself, comparing to others and forgetting about myself and my style of bread, though I am pretty new to SD baking (3 years will have been in December). As I live in Europe, the flour isn’t that strong nor does it take up much water, imagine my frustration 🙂 Recently, I’ve joined Instagram and started following many famous bakers, including yourself! It’s been very promising at the beginning, and I’ve noticed this trend as well (big holes, high hydration, not to forget professional photos too), and wanted to join, however, my flours didn’t allow me to, but that’s a good thing huh 🙂 so I can try finding my own unique style of baking.
    Have a look at my profile please, it’s sourdough_mania, I mainly use low hydration and local/organic stone-ground flour.
    ps. I also love your videos, the one using low hydration dough was mind-opening!Reply
    • Trevor Wilson saysNovember 6, 2016 at 5:18 PMThanks for the kind words Anita! I’m glad to hear that you’re following your own path now. I can only imagine the shock of trying to recreate our American high hydration breads with your softer European flours — must’ve made for some difficult dough! There’s nothing wrong with lower hydration breads — most of the breads I bake for myself, friends and family fall into the lower hydration camp. High hydration is always a fun challenge, but it’s mostly something I make when I’m looking for pretty photos, or when I’m feeling the need to impress my fellow bakers.And feeling the need to impress people is a problem, don’t you think?Cheers!TrevorReply
      • Anita Šumer saysNovember 10, 2016 at 7:44 AMHi Trevor,
        thank you for your reply.
        You can’t imagine what it was like when I was trying the Tartine recipes 😀 but I got to my senses sooner than later.
        Yes, and I feel you, the need to impress can be quite persistent and addictive. And if your bread doesn’t have big holes nor the top notch photos, you must be doing something wrong 😉 well, I don’t mind, I love being creative, trying out new things with sourdough, I even made meatballs with it (these were the best ever, you can find a pic in my Instagram profile), sourdough tempura batter for paprika and squid, as well as other yummy stuff. Sky is the limit 🙂Cheers!
        AnitaReply
        • Trevor Wilson saysNovember 12, 2016 at 7:14 AMYour bread looks great!Reply
          • Anita Šumer saysNovember 29, 2016 at 5:31 AMAwww, thanks a lot, Trevor! And it means a lot! Any chance to follow me on my sourdough quest on Instagram? :* Following you too 🙂Reply
            • Trevor Wilson saysDecember 5, 2016 at 10:23 AMConsider it done.Reply
25. Jasmin saysDecember 5, 2016 at 9:52 PMHey Trevor,
    New to your website. My best friend who loves to bake sent me your video and then I just started to read all your posts. Your posts are honest and inspiring. Thank you for sharing your gifts. By the way, what you just told us here is a beautiful universal soul-behaviour. it happens to all of us who are passionate about something and find someone who represents that inner fantasy and desire we carry with us and didn’t know until we see it. Specially when we are young. Love the story. Thanks again for sharing it.
    I am trying to make the starter so I am here looking for the instructions on that. I live in Toronto, Canada and I am not sure if the low temperatures are messing up my experiment 🙁 …
    Keep up the great job you are doing.Reply
    • Trevor Wilson saysDecember 6, 2016 at 8:38 PMThank you very much Jasmin! I appreciate your kind words! And I’m glad my work resonates with you!As for making the starter, I don’t have any instructions here on the site. There are so many methods out there already, and most of them work just fine. But the best tutorial I’ve found is over at theperfectloaf.com. Here’s a link . . . https://www.theperfectloaf.com/7-easy-steps-making-incredible-sourdough-starter-scratch/Now, if I can make a starter in Vermont then you can definitely make a starter in Toronto. But you may need to find a warm place to keep your starter during the initial creation. It’s difficult to culture a sourdough starter when the ambient temps get much below 72F (22C). Good luck!TrevorReply
      • Jasmin saysDecember 6, 2016 at 8:54 PMThank you Trevor for your reply. I have checked a ton of websites but my problem is that I haven’t been able to catch the wild yeast. Yes..I was keeping the starter in the furnace room but then it got mold very quickly. A friend told me that I may have to ask a bakery for some starter…Let’s see..today I am trying my 3 attempt to create a starter. I can’t believe I haven’t been able to do that 🙁
        Thanks again…
        JasminReply
        • Trevor Wilson saysDecember 6, 2016 at 9:22 PMYou don’t need to worry so much about “catching” the wild yeast — they’re already in the flour. It’s really just a matter of encouraging them to bring the culture to life. And it can be a tricky thing. The first sourdough starter you make is always the most difficult.Now, getting some starter from a local bakery is definitely the easiest way to get going. Nothing wrong with that at all. But there’s value to be had in starting one from scratch. It helps you to learn to read the signs and get a feel for its rhythm. The most important skill for a baker to have is the ability to correctly manage fermentation. This is especially true of sourdough bakers. Creating a starter from scratch, difficult as it may be the first time, gives you a big step forward in that understanding. It’s teaching yourself to fish, rather than being given a fish.But I understand the frustration when you can’t seem to figure it out and it’s holding you back from doing what you want — which is baking sourdough! So you can always pick up some starter from the bakery so you can get baking right away, while working on creating your own starter on the side. Might be the best of both worlds. I wish you luck!Reply
          • Dwight Eggers saysDecember 7, 2016 at 11:32 AMI have a suggestion for initiating a starter that works well for me and that I have not seen in other guides. I use the residue liquid from soaking wheat berries for sprouting. After two or three feedings of 100% hydration of wheat flour I have a starter that is ready to go. Apparently the right kind of bacteria are hanging around on the outside of the berry just waiting for the opportunity to lunch on what’s inside. I can get from the start of soaking of berries to ready to go starter in 48 hours. I’d welcome hearing opinions and experience that counter this technique.Reply
            • Trevor Wilson saysDecember 9, 2016 at 8:03 PMThanks for the suggestion Dwight! It makes total sense to me that you could get a sourdough starter from the soaking liquid of sprouted wheat. After all, it’s the same yeast/bacteria on the wheat berries that ends up in the soaking liquid that also ends up in the flour made from those wheat berries.That you’re also able to get a working starter within 48 hours of the soaking is pretty damn impressive. Have you tried perpetuating the starter? I ask, because this sounds like something closer to yeast water — a popular method derived from soaking raisins. Yeast water doesn’t perpetuate. It lasts for a while then the active yeast are eventually killed off by the growing acidity of the culture.When creating normal sourdough cultures, there’s usually a burst of yeasty activity within 24-48 hours of the initial mix. This is really just a false positive. The active microbiota of this initial burst are not the ones that will ultimately survive in perpetuity. They have their brief moment, then they gradually die off and are supplanted by better adapted organisms. I wonder if, perhaps, this is what you are witnessing.I don’t mean to come off as overly skeptical (though I am a big believer in the power of skepticism) — after all, I’ve never tried this method myself. If I don’t have direct first hand experience with a method, then I never rule it out. It’s just that it doesn’t fit my current understanding of the science in play. So if you have any additional information of your method, I’d love to hear it. And, in fact, you’ve peaked my curiosity so I’ll probably try it myself. I’m always experimenting with new methods of making starters — this fits right in. So thank you kindly! Cheers!TrevorReply
              • Dwight Eggers saysDecember 12, 2016 at 12:05 PMThanks for your thoughts Trevor. No I have not achieved a stable starter that I propagate more than a few months. I bake irregularly and have found it easier to start fresh rather than rejuvenate a long dormant batch. I don’t perceive that my experience with maintaining this soaker residue starter has been inferior than when I had a starter which originated from a commercial kit.My pattern of baking is once or twice a week for a couple of months, then take a break for travel for several weeks or more. My mode of maintaining the starter is leaving it dormant in the fridge until 12-24 hours before it is needed, then use 20g as a seed a new batch, one or two iterations of feeding, then put the fresh excess back in the fridge to start the cycle again. I use 100% hydration for my wheat starter; 90% for spelt. I find that the spelt starter is more stable in the fridge than the wheat. The spelt can sit there for a couple of months without stirring or feeding and still be ready to go. After a couple of weeks undisturbed the wheat will get a slight liquid residue on top and a graying of the surface exposed to the air.I agree that I probably do not have the diversity of microbial community to provide the flavor richness and robustness that characterize a long established starter. If it was that easy I am sure this approach would have gained traction. I think I could perpetuate it indefinitely, but it is just too easy to start over again when my baking routine is disrupted.For the sake of full disclosure: I am using organically grown berries that I obtain directly from the grower (Wheat Montana). I am relatively confident that they have not been extensively treated or contaminated through their passage to me.If you find time to attempt this, Trevor, I will look forward to hearing your impressions, as well as from other readers of this thread.Reply
                • Trevor Wilson saysDecember 14, 2016 at 12:17 PMIt definitely sounds like an interesting method Dwight. And it sounds like it works out very well for you. It’s right up there on my “to make” list, right next to the pineapple juice starter. I love to experiment with different ways of creating starters so I’ll definitely be giving this one a go at some point down the road. When I do, I’ll be sure and let you know how it comes out. Thanks again for sharing!Cheers!Trevor
26. Daniel Martinez saysDecember 17, 2016 at 3:27 PMPhew! Man, I needed this (reality check). Thank you Trevor for helping me come down from the elitist cloud and see the world with better clarity.Reply
    • Trevor Wilson saysDecember 19, 2016 at 6:55 PMHa! Glad I could help! That elitist cloud is a dangerous place to be — I know, I’ve been there. It’s a hard fall when that bubble bursts. But clarity is a beautiful thing. Worth the fall, no doubt.Cheers!TrevorReply
27. Larry saysDecember 29, 2016 at 9:16 AMthanks, i guess don’t feel like such a dork wanting to be Trevor Wilson right now… great blog and videos man! now if i can just figure out how to transfer my loaf to the dutch over without collapsing it every time. i returned to kneading for a loaf yesterday just so i could ramp up for another wet dough foray…Reply
28. Shawn saysDecember 30, 2016 at 2:20 AMWell written and well thought. Nice Trevor. Maybe I’m not alone…Reply
    • Trevor Wilson saysJanuary 3, 2017 at 7:59 AMThanks Shawn! Much appreciated! You are not alone my friend. Cheers!TrevorReply
29. McMartz saysJanuary 12, 2017 at 6:33 AMHi
    Congratulations for one of the few real bread websites on the net,
    I have just started with sourdough breads a month ago as I was only using yeast so far. Got trouble to get the right bread as all come flat, After mixing all ingredients and S & F for couple of hours the dough gets nice and elastic but it does not rise at all from the first bulk fermentation till the last proofing. I do not whats wrong. I tell you how I do :Sourdough: I use 50/50 ecological strong wheat flour & ecological whole rye flour, water at Fº 93 ( kitchen temperature Fº 60 – Fº 64 ), I live in the mountains so weather is bit cold but dry. Feeding it every 24hrs. Starter has one month life, is predictable and mostly passes the float test. I refresh it 8 hours before mixing and it comes with bubbles too.* here there are some details which I do know if they may cause the problem: I drop few small teaspoons with starter and some of them floats but some do not. Do every teaspoon require to float ? I use water from the tap and is cold at this time.May I use warmer water ?.Baking :Strong wheat flour 60%
    All Purpose flour 40%
    Cold water 80%
    Salt 2%
    leaven 20%Feed starter 8 hours before & Autolyse 8 hours flours & water at room temperature
    Add Salt & leaven, mix it and do S & F every 30 minutes for 2 hours and leave it 2 more hours bulking.
    After that I put the dough in the fridge for 12 hours. Divide & Rest for 30 minutes, Shape & proof for 1 hour and straight to the oven.Any idea of what can be wrong ?Thank you very much in advance for you advise.All bestMcMartzReply
30. Zozz saysFebruary 2, 2017 at 3:12 PMMate that was Beutifuly written. I have been a pastry cook/bake for 20 years & I too was digrunteled from my profession Trevor. Baking as a trade is hard work, not much time for passion. sourdough has opened new doors for everyone, even people who work in the trade. I recently learned how to make a starter.Mainly because I felt like a looser, being a baker but not knowing how to do it. I’m not a looser, I was just never shown. I want too thank everyone who joins these communities & openly talks about what they love doing. Sharing ideas, posting photos, chatting, this all fuels passion & that is a good thing.I think Chad did this with his book, your doing with your blog, your sharing your JOY, love, passion, STOKE, and it drives us to Bake. I had a realisation a few months bake. It’s not the crumb or crust, it’s the first Waft of smell coming out of the oven. I never tire of it….. Cheers Trevor… By the way I never write anything, & need to add to my new friends. Thanks again for your effortsReply
31. John Robins saysFebruary 14, 2017 at 10:19 PMHow timely, coming across your heart-felt and well-written piece about ‘Tartine Envy”. I’ve been anguishing over my loaves not getting the oven spring that so many others seem to achieve. I have been getting quite despondent about this; however, after reading your thoughts I’ve decided not to stress so much about reaching the perfection that I presume Chad Robertson manages on each bake.
    I found your videos on YouTube to be very helpful. I cannot locate one on creating the starter, however.
    Great work T. Many thanks.Reply
32. Augusto saysFebruary 28, 2017 at 7:08 PMGreat article, great blog. Thanks for sharingReply
33. Lynn saysJune 27, 2017 at 1:10 PMHello Trevor:
    I have recently been following you. I am a Robertsonaholic. I have all of his and Elisabeth’s books. The Bread Builder’s book was my first as well. So, like many other’s, I have been engrossed by this bread phenomena for many years. I also follow “Girl Meets Rye” and try her technique’s. Here’s my so called dilemma, even after passing Chad on the streets of S.F. and buying his breads (and her sweets) many times, the experience and taste is much more divine then my bread has reached yet. His country loaves are larger in diameter then the combo cookers allow and the lightness of the whole loaf is perflexing. My constant questions is “why don’t my loaves turn out so light and airy?” Everyone loves my bread, but my obsession has become my own question, can I achieve the same results without the professional equipment or years of Chad’s knowledge? Would that even be fair? Is that what Chad really wanted for his bread minnions? My ranting is done and frustration has over taken me, so I find myself backing up a bit and trying something new, hence, I find you and the bread loaf pan. It is a delight to read your posts and you have a great talent for writing and vocabulary. Maybe if I could finally have a wood burning oven that Alan Scott used to create, it might satisfy my disappointment with bread?Reply
34. Ruthie saysAugust 2, 2017 at 2:00 AMMy experience of Tartine:Their “great bread” is just sourdough. Paul Hollywood doesn’t like holes THAT BIG, ie, there’s a bit of a mistake going on.So I go to Tartine: the bread is delicious but the MIDDLE IS WET AF. THE MIDDLE OF THE BREAD IS WET AF Trevor.The bread is not that big & puffed, it’s wide & round. Their baguettes are made with sourdough & YEAST. I asked when I was there. I went to the back & I looked at their levain w permission.The taste is like any other strong SD bread. Honestly.I was watching the bakers in the back fold & put them into baskets. The LEVAIN did not have that many bubbles in it.They told me they bulk rise up from 2 to 8 hours. They mix first, then bulk rise 8 hours, then shape & rise again. I found out from the NYT that they let this 2nd rise go for 4 hours.We can get there bro, and perhaps we do not have to use YEAST our baguettes, right? And perhaps we will not have wet middles in our bread.I’m new to SD but I think Tartine is HYPE AF. Understand? HYPE HYPE HYPE – HIPSTER HYPE. SMDHLastly I tried the “pastries” honestly, his wife, she’s gluten free, I have no idea if the pastries are GF but they were AVERAGE at best. We had choc chip cookie & choc cake. No diff than anything you can get anywhere.Ice cream was good tho, but so is any ice cream you make from scratch & a machine.Ok GTG, am making SD baguette again, overnighting it. I was hoping to find you on twitter but to no avail.Reply
35. Ruthie saysAugust 22, 2017 at 6:55 AMHey this is Ruthie again. Well, I haven’t stopped thinking about Tartine brad since I hate it. My sourdough starters are kind of asleep. Tartine was that great, and I figured out that it was actually Chad himself back there when I was asking questions. His other bakers answered my questions but I was pulled out of there by my husband.I have to go back soon, it’s like Chad Robertson is the bread god. I’ve been trying to watch vids to see how he does it, the man is just MAGIC. And yes there’s hype as I said before but I completely change my mind. His bread is the real deal. And I’m not even sure it’s reproducable anywhere.I’ve been to France, Gosselin baguettes were my most favorite in the world till Tartine. Now it’s Tartine & I haven’t stopped thinking about how great that bread was.I went to Bouchon Bakery today & had their Sourdough Boule. No match, good, nothing great.As an aside, Chad’s wife is the patisserie part of Tartine, she’s head of all the cakes, etc & those are just ok, nothing spectacular like in France. She’s also gluten-free personally or something like that.I’ll update if I can ever get to a better level in my own bread baking or I just want to say hi.Later.Reply
36. mary jane saysAugust 23, 2017 at 2:25 AMHello Trevor.
    I’m failing big time with wet dough & very little rise. Trying to develop a hardier starter or maybe I need less hydration, who knows?
    I’ve tried Breadtopia No Kneed then Tartine (I was wait-listed at the Library!). Tartine was a bit more successful but I know I can improve on a 2.5″ rise.
    So tonight I found your Rubaud Method video (thanks YouTube). Tommorw I’ll try that. Here’s the thing that is giving some lingering ember of hope;
    After watching you 3+ times it dawned on me why I thought maybe this is the method for me (besides formal autoyse).
    !!!YOU ARE LEFT HANDED!!!
    Thank you, finally it’s not all backwards.
    Wish me luck,
    MaryJane~Reply
37. Cate saysOctober 19, 2017 at 3:36 AMI don’t understand the obsession men have with big holes in their bread.Bread is not air with a few crisscrossed strands of gluten.The quest for great bread cannot be aesthetics alone. Especially when the aesthetics sought leaves no bread to actually sink your teeth into.Reply
38. susan Bliley saysNovember 17, 2017 at 4:31 PMYou are absolutely hysterical! You would have made as a writer too. I really have a ball with your recipes.Thank you.SusanReply
    • Trevor Wilson saysNovember 18, 2017 at 8:09 PMThanks Susan! It’s funny, I can only write like I speak — very plain. But so long as I get my message across then I’m happy.Cheers!TrevorReply
39. William Wescott saysNovember 20, 2017 at 3:38 AMVery nicely put. I had been noticing that–like many things in life–fashions change what we try to do and what we accept as good. Unfortunately, one fashion tends to displace previous ones instead of pulling up alongside them and expanding our choices. But choice is terrifying, and making a choice of your own requires energy and courage.
    So you’ve shown some of the reasons why home bread baking has changed so much since the days when I was using “Beard on Bread.” Thanks for making it explicit.Reply
40. Thomas Cappiello saysJanuary 7, 2018 at 1:38 AMand yet, I’ve ordered your ebook so I can try to make something that resembles the beholden Tartine, lol. That big open crumb actually does nothing for me but make me envious that I have yet to satisfactorily perform it. Otherwise, I like my loaf pans, 70% hydration, tight but soft crumb and crust, 50% whole wheat sandwich bread. But I always like a challenge. If I’m not getting it, it drives me crazy until I reach some point where I have a sense of satisfactory accomplishment.Reply
41. Tony saysApril 28, 2018 at 8:28 PMI’ve had the same neurosis and it almost put me into an early grave. Far too early!Reply
42. Jordan saysJune 15, 2018 at 2:36 PMI really enjoyed this article, very on point. I started about six months ago with Flour, Water, Salt, Yeast and then just last week grabbed Robertson’s book to read on a long flight home. As someone who’s been eating home made bread for almost 60 years, I have had all sorts as I had a mom that loved to bake and to experiment. She did whole wheat when it wasn’t in vogue, she did sourdoughs when most home bakers had gone to commercial yeasts.My favorite memory of bread is still the partial whole wheat with wheat berries that she would bake. Always in loaf pans, always a fairly dense crumb. The smell of the flour, the yeast and the alcohol from bread fresh out of the oven is still with me 40 years later. As a teen I would eat an entire loaf between the time they came out of the oven and dinner time. That is as “real” as bread gets.Now that I’m doing rustic, artisan breads, I see the Tartine style bread as really just a canvas to work from, not an end product in and of itself. I don’t bake mine until they’re too dark, just starting to turn black at the tips of the ears. I like an open crumb, but enough density to hold some butter or a topping. Then to play with fresh ground grains and herbs to get flavors that I want to overly lay that canvas of “plain” artisan bread. It’s all good and the experimentation is the best part.I will be grabbing a copy of your book too now that I know about it. I like to read the different perspectives, methods and philosophies as work on breads I want to call my own.Reply
43. Chris saysNovember 15, 2018 at 7:17 AMI love how honest this post is! I’m a relatively new bread baker (only 3 years experience) and it actually annoyed me how everyone seemed to have only one standard of acceptable bread baking. I think Chad Robinson has absolutely wonderful bread! But the true joy in bread baking is creating your own style of bread according to your taste. More importantly, it should make the people who eat it happy! Thank you for sharing!Reply